What War Is
by Everything's Eventual
Summary: "War is Death." And Prussia made sure of that.


**What is War?**

* * *

Holy Rome always asked about what war was.

Not literally, or course, Holy Rome knew what war _was_. But he wanted to know what it _meant_. What it meant to command mass amounts of men and then murder them all. It was important to him; war was how he made his living. Although, he had to be careful who he asked.

Of course, Italy wouldn't know anything about war, Austria would scowl and seem angry for the rest of the day, Austria's husband, that funny Spanish guy, would get a dark look in his eye diminishing that happy gleam, Hungary would grin with confidence and burst with old stories, and Prussia...

"What is war?" Holy Rome needed to know.

Italy, adorable little Italy, looked sad, "It's bad. And scary." she mumbled, twisting her dirty apron in her chubby hands. Her eyes tensed and her frown became even more upset, "It makes bad things happen."

Holy Rome furrowed his eyebrows; of course Italy would have no idea. Even though she had lived with the great Rome, and seen all that she had. But she was a girl after all, not much war experience, a Catholic girl especially.

Even if she had experience, she probably forgot about it. The same way she forgot about cleaning the dishing and how Austria always forgot the route to his own bedroom.

* * *

"What is war?" the second the words left his mouth, Holy Rome knew asking Austria was a bad idea.

His... (what was Austria to him? Friend? Boss? Annoying guy he had to live with?) Austria's lip curled and the song he had playing came to a screeching halt when his hands came crashing down over the keys, "Why?" Defiantly a bad idea. Knowing Austria, he would sulk over this all day and the only music anyone would hear was screeching tragedies.

Holy Rome winced, "I just wanted to know... what you thought about it." he asked, gaining back some confidence when Austria's annoyed face melted into his usual politely bored one Holy Rome was so used to seeing. Maybe he would finally get an answer from the powerful Hapsburg dynasty. A man who no doubt knew of wars.

"War," Austria began with such authority that Holy Rome actually got excited, "is a useless, chaotic, brutish alternative for those to stupid or unable to partake in disruption or diplomacy." Austria finished with scowl. Holy Rome sighed, disappointed, taking away all the sophisticated vernacular, Austria was basically saying, 'War is Prussia's game, one I can't beat him at.' Prussia always seemed to be haunting Austria lately.

Holy Rome left without his answer, of course, he should have known there wouldn't be one; Austria probably had as much war experience as Little Italy did.

* * *

Maybe it was the wrong time to ask the Spaniard, when he was so torn by wars and dragged out of the Hapsburg house, but as Holy Rome watched the man drag himself and all his belongings out of the mansion, he couldn't help it.

The blond boy rushed up Spain, who looked weak (as he always did) but cheerful, "What is war?"

What little cheerfulness that was left in that weathered face was gone, the sparkling green eyes turned dusty and old and his wild hair seemed to wilt, "War?" Spain chocked, millions of unwanted thoughts and memories rushing in. Memories of his people being murdered by armies and memories of his armies murdering people (_oh God she saw her child die-Did I just murder a boy? He was a solider but he was just a little boy!-They're heretics but they're Spanish, oh no, oh no, what do I do?- Should I kill them?- These savages... are they?- Are they worth less than me? They look like me. They have the same expressions.)_ Spain's face became pained and Holy Rome blinked at the sudden change.

Spain couldn't help but glance at Austria's house, where he used to live so happily, and try to find Austria in one of the windows, one hand made its way to his heart and clenched the fabric there, "War..." he murmured, "War is a chance for men to exercise their evil."

Spain dragged himself away from the house, his body shaking with suppressed memories.

* * *

"What is war?"

Holy Rome knew this would turn out to be only slightly less of a disaster then asking Austria or Spain.

Hungary's face split into a vicious grin. Eyes glinting with hatred and aggression and _victory_ (all the things Austria had suppressed) and teeth sharp, grin wide at the simple memory of past raids and fights.

She looked like a solider to Holy Rome's childish eyes.

"War is victory!" she cried, looking off in the distance with her wild eyes, but suddenly, before Holy Rome could even consider that answer Hungary froze. Literally froze, every muscle twitching to an abrupt halt then they sagged. Her grin fell into a grimace, her arched eyebrows relaxed inwardly, and her sharp eyes lost their glint and became dim.

She continued to stare off at something Holy Rome couldn't see as she whispered, "And it is defeat."

Hungary moped away, her body and emotions indifferent, caught between memories of victory and memories of defeat.

* * *

_Holy Rome always asked about what war was._

_Not literally, or course, Holy Rome knew what war was. But he wanted to know what it meant. What it meant to command mass amounts of men and murder them all. It was important to him; war was how he made his living. Although, he had to be careful who he asked._

_Of course, Italy wouldn't know anything about war, Austria would scowl and seem angry for the rest of the day, Austria's husband, that funny Spanish guy, would get a dark look in his eye diminishing that happy gleam, Hungary would be caught in the eternal balance of victory and defeat, while Prussia..._

_He would prove it._

* * *

Holy Rome looked up through his bangs, not bothering to wipe the blood from his eyes, he could barely see the albino who stood before him, Austria's collar held tightly in one hand and a sword in the other through the red. He could hardly see and Holy Rome was afraid (maybe Little Italy knew more about war than him after all) but he asked anyway, "What his war?" he yelled, pleadingly. His weak voice kept as steady as possible.

Holy Rome held his body up with quivering arms as Prussia set the unconscious Austria down and turned on Holy Rome. For a moment, before the smirk came, he swore he saw a sad look on the nation's face. Holy Rome found Prussia's entire attention focused on him, sizing him up and analyzing him with sharp, wine red eyes.

Prussia sneered at the boy and said without a tone of doubt in his bitter voice, "War is Death."

And with his sword, Prussia made it so.

(_Now Holy Rome knows what war truely is. And, truth be told, nothing was gained with that knowledge._)


End file.
